Dum spiro, spero
by Timelady Shayde
Summary: While I breathe, I hope. AngelBuffyHighlander Xover. Wesley isn't dead. Yay! But very soon it may not matter.
1. Chapter 1

Title: dum spiro, spero - _while I breathe, I hope_

The boring bit: All characters from BTVS and Angel are the property of Joss Whedon. All characters from Highlander: the Series and Highlander: the Raven belong to Panzer/Davis. You lucky, lucky bastards.

Spoilers: Set after the end of all the series mentioned above. If anyone hasn't seen the last episodes of these programmes then they are obviously from another planet.

Summary: Battles have been fought and won. But possibly not for long. Wes isn't dead. Yay! But he may not be entirely happy about his new existence. Illyria has been a bad girl keeping secrets. And a Really Old Guy turns up to confuse things even more. But not for quite a while. P.S. I am firmly in denial about Richie, so he'll be turning up later too.

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The battle was not going well. Illyria was wading through the throng with glee, and Angel had managed to decapitate the dragon, albeit getting seriously singed in the process. Gunn however could barely stand, and Spike was having to keep the seemingly never ending stream of demons from getting too close to the rapidly failing young man.

"We can't keep this up Peaches. Charlie boy's not gonna make it much longer." He called out as he decapitated something brown and scaly with horns.

"What do you suggest we do Spike?" Angel replied, impaling the demon running towards him. "We're trapped. We have nowhere to go."

Another demon smacked into the wall above his head, thrown by Illyria. Blue fire burned in her eyes, but she knew they were running out of time.

"There are too many of them even with my strength. We would need an army to defeat them all."

"Well then today is your lucky day." A sunny voice called from overhead, while a horde of teenage girls suddenly emerged from all directions and joined in the fight.

"Buffy! I thought you weren't going to help us any more." Angel snapped accusingly.

"Well how was I supposed to know what you were planning? As far as we knew you'd sold out to the Darkside. It was only when Willow felt a big imbalance in the Force here in L.A. that we realised something big was happening."

"I hate to break this up boys and girls, but we still have a demon army to kill."

"Don't sweat it Spike, my girls are all over it."

A bright flash of light encircled the advancing ogre, turning it immediately into stone.

"Good job Will." Shouted a beaming Buffy, and turning to Angel said "This'll be over in no time."

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With a sharp intake of breathe and an almost imperceptible flash of blue light, a sore and very confused Wesley Wyndham-Price opened his eyes. Quickly taking stock of his surroundings he realised he was still lying on the floor of Cyrus Vail's hallway where he had fallen. He remembered his life slowly bleeding away across the floor, Vail's gloating face. And Fred, his head in her lap. No, not Fred … Illyria. She had said there had been nothing she could do, yet here he was, alive and apparently well. He had been stabbed hadn't he? Sitting up quickly he placed his hand to his chest and sure enough found the sticky stain across his sweater. There was a great pool of blood spread across the floor, far too much for him to have survived. Yet there was no sign of the surely fatal wound. What the Hell was going on? Was he some sort of spirit? No. He didn't feel dead. He was still breathing, his heart still beating. Slowly dragging himself to his feet Wesley wondered if the combined powerful magicks of the battle had somehow protected him, but quickly dismissed the notion. Those spells had been designed to kill. His thoughts turned back to Illyria with sudden anger. The shell of the woman he loved. His one happy thought as he had lain there in her arms was that he would be reunited with her in death, but it seemed he had been cheated of that. But what of the others, Angel, Gunn and Spike? Had they survived their own tasks? Were they safely back at the Hyperion? Buttoning his jacket to hide the blood on his sweater he swiftly made his way out onto the street. Regardless of the circumstances of his survival he had a rendezvous to keep. Perhaps together they could work out what had happened.

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A very weary and somewhat rumpled Angel walked down the steps of the Hyperion Hotel's reception. Andrew and Dawn had set up a surprisingly efficient triage unit while the battle had been raging outside, and began seeing to the wounded as they had begun coming in. Gunn however needed far more help than they could give.

"Xander's driven him to the nearest hospital." Replied Dawn to Angel's unspoken question. "Although I'm not sure how they're gonna explain it to the doctors."

"I think the E.R. department is pretty used to us lot by now Niblet." Said Spike as he entered the foyer.

"Hey Spike. Heard you weren't dead. You coulda called you know."

"Yeah. Sorry bout that. Things've been pretty busy round here." Spike replied, at least having the decency to look sheepish. "In any case, I didn't think we were on the Christmas card list anymore, what with working for Wolfram and Hart."

"Yes well. That was rather more the council's point of view than ours." Replied Giles as he cleaned his glasses. "At least to start with. I'm afraid I am forced to agree with them on this. Wolfram and Hart have caused a great deal of pain and suffering. I realise that you thought you could manipulate them from the inside, but they are far more powerful than you know. I doubt even your actions of the last few weeks will deter them for long Angel."

"So what made you change your mind now Giles? Fred's life wasn't worth enough to help, but you came now."

"I'm very sorry to hear about the loss of Miss Burkle, but it could have been prevented if you hadn't associated yourself with Wolfram and Hart in the first place. What on Earth possessed you?"

"We all had reasons Giles. None of which are any of your business. And you didn't answer my question. Why now?"

"You've been messing around with forces you don't understand. Caused ripples that may rebound in ways we can no longer foresee. Quite frankly, you've pissed a great many people off. Good and evil. And I use the word _people_ loosely. You've bitten off more than you can chew this time, and the council has sent us to make sure that everything is put back on the right track."

"You really don't trust us anymore do you?"

"You really haven't given us any reason to with your actions over the past year."

"We may not agree on his methods, but all of Angel's actions up until this point have been done with the best intentions." Said Wesley as he entered the hotel, only to be met with a number of open mouthed stares, not to mention a few downright suspicious ones.

"Don't mean to be rude mate, but aren't you supposed to dead." Said an extremely confused Spike, as Illyria moved towards the apparently resurrected Englishman.

"I watched you die." She said, as she gently touched his face.

"Wesley?" Said Angel, unease etched across his features.

Pulling his eyes from Illyria's, Wesley replied "I assure you it is me. And I have no more idea of why I'm still alive than you do."

"Well he kind of smells like Wes. But there's definitely something different." Said Spike.

"Like electricity." Angel cut in.

"It should be simple enough for Willow to check if it really is Wesley." Said Giles.

"It'll take a while for me to set up the ritual." Replied Willow.

"Until then it might be better if he is restrained."

Wesley sighed. "It really is me. But if this will convince you I suppose I'll have to. And would somebody please tell me where Gunn is, and why we are inundated with Slayers?"

"Gunn's at the hospital. Xander said he'd call when he knew what was going on." Said Buffy as she tied Wesley to the sofa in the centre of the foyer.

"We're here to help." Said Giles. "And before you start, we've already had the righteous indignation from Angel thank you very much."

"Were you expecting us to be happy to see you?" Replied Angel, rapidly losing his temper again.

"Under the circumstances yes. None of you would have survived out there without us. Or were you planning to go out in a blaze of glory? This isn't going to be the end of it you know. They're going to keep coming after you."

"Okay guys, this really isn't helping. Let's concentrate on sorting out Wesley, if it is Wesley, and then figure out what our next move is."

"Yes Buffy, you're quite right." Replied Giles

"Just don't think that this discussion is over." Scowled Angel as he walked from the room.

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There you go then. Reviews are greatly appreciated but this is my first fan fic, so while constructive criticism is welcomed, flaming will be answered with the sarcasm it deserves.


	2. Chapter 2

Same disclaimers as before.

I've had this chapter on my computer for years, I don't know why I've never posted it. The next couple of chapters have been roughed out, so if I get any interest I'll make the effort to get them written up properly.

On with the show

* * *

Three days earlier, in Paris

Methos was not happy. The Boyscout had buggered off to Milan with Kate for a romantic holiday, Joe was in New York at some Watcher's Council thing, and Amanda and Wolfe were on some sort of secret mission for Burt Meyers. So he was stuck with the Kid. It wasn't that he didn't like Richie, it was just that _he_ was as bored as Methos. They'd spent the previous night in Joe's bar drinking steadily and wishing that something…anything…would happen to break the monotony. Instead Methos found himself back at Joe's waiting for Richie to turn up.

It was all MacLeod's fault of course. He'd been all for the quiet life until the Scot forced his way into it. His philosophy had been simple; if you saw trouble heading your way run in the opposite direction, preferably to another continent. But over the past decade he'd found himself getting more and more involved in other people's problems. Worse still he found himself caring. He had real friends now, wonder of wonders, people that actually cared about _him_. All this introspection was not healthy, so he ordered himself another beer and settled in at the bar to wait for Richie.

He therefore wasn't too surprised to feel the buzz of an approaching immortal a few minutes later, and gave the door the merest glance as the individual entered. As it was he nearly choked on his beer. The woman's eyes took on all the warmth of a glacier as they came to fix on his. Oh Gods! When he said he'd wanted something interesting to happen he certainly hadn't meant _her_. She wound her way through the tables towards him, their eyes glued, neither prepared to be the first to look away. Methos had come to terms with his "angry adolescence"; it wasn't _his_ fault if she hadn't. Well, maybe slightly. It had all been a long time ago after all. He realised he was mentally babbling, not a good sign. The woman stopped next to him by the bar, a good arms length away.

"Methos" she breathed, making his name sound almost like a swear word.

"Cassandra." He nodded in reply. "And it's Adam in company".

"Still hiding who you really are" she said with a mockingly raised eyebrow.

"I'm not the one who lives on holy ground in the middle of a wood." Methos retorted. "Something important must have happened for you to leave." He tried to sound as disinterested as possible, but the questioning in his tone was there.

"I'm looking for Duncan" Cassandra replied with impatience.

"Well then you're going to be disappointed. He's off romancing Kate in Italy."

"Yes I heard about their reconciliation. He deserves to be loved. Do you know when he will be back?"

"Honestly no. And he's made quite sure that no one can get in touch with them." The irritation was evident in his voice.

"It is vital that I speak to him." She exclaimed. "I need his help."

"Oh Gods! This isn't another one of your prophecies is it?" Methos said with an exasperated sigh.

"You may mock, but I have been feeling the stirring of great forces for sometime. A terrible battle is to be fought between good and evil." Her voice rose as she spoke, and a number of other patrons turned to look.

Methos quickly turned back to the bar. "I hardly think this is the place to discuss supernatural forces" he hissed between his teeth.

As he spoke the buzz of another immortal washed over him. Perfect, he thought. Maybe he could palm Cassandra off on the kid and he could make a swift exit. Although he had to admit that his curiosity had been piqued. Damn MacLeod and his need to help everyone. Why did it have to be contagious?

Both ancient immortals turned to the door as Richie entered.

Methos turned to Cassandra. "Before you ask, he has no more idea of how to contact MacLeod than I do."

"This can't wait _Adam_", the name dripping with sarcasm. "Duncan must go to America immediately. The battle will be fought soon, and it needs another Champion."

"What do you mean another Champion?" Methos' question was lost as Richie bounded up to the two older Immortals.

"Hey Adam, Cassandra" said Richie as he approached. "Battles? Champions? This isn't another one of your prophecies is it?"

"What do mean another Champion?" Methos repeated with irritation.

Cassandra ignored him. "Yes dear Richard. Someone has tampered with the balance between good and evil placing the world in peril. A battle must be fought in the City of Angels."

"City of Angels? You mean L.A.?" Richie said with surprise

"It's not exactly where I'd choose for an Apocalypse" replied Methos

"Well I suppose you've had experience" said Richie playfully, getting a pair of stony faces in return. "Hey guys, just a joke. Look Cassandra, if you need some help The ROG and I have nothing better to do."

"Oh no!" Said Methos, backing away. "I've had more than enough battles in my lifetime"

"Come on man. You were just saying the other night you wished something interesting would happen."

"I'm not sure that either of you would be entirely suitable" cut in Cassandra with a frown.

"Yes exactly" said Methos, looking desperate. "We're not Champions, and _she_ still hasn't explained why the forces of good apparently need more than one."

"Look, everyone else is away and incommunicado. If this is as important as you say, we're the only help you've got."

Cassandra sighed. "I see the logic of what you say Richard, but you must realise that that this will be a dangerous task."

"Isn't it always?" grumbled Methos

Ignoring him, Cassandra continued. "Those that you will fight possess great power, but my visions tell me that you will find allies with powers of their own."

"I assume with all this reference to 'us' that you will not be going to L.A." Methos accused.

"I cannot" Cassandra snapped back. "This imbalance has sent ripples across the world and I am needed here for when they break. L.A. is the epicentre where the evil must ultimately be defeated. Only a Champion can do that, and to answer your question, five Champions are needed to fulfil this task, and one of them must be an Immortal."

"Is that it?" said Methos, incredulous. "You expect us to go halfway across the world and risk our lives fighting some unknown evil to prevent an Apocalypse, there must be something else you can tell us."

"This is important you stupid, stubborn man. I am not the only seer who has sensed the danger. The whole world is at stake. I wouldn't be asking you of all people for help unless the situation was desperate. Please Methos."

Slightly stunned by the apparent display of humility from a woman who despised his very existence, Methos looked Cassandra straight in the eye. "You're frightened aren't you?" he said softly.

Cassandra turned away.

"Come on Old Man" Richie laughed, trying to lighten the mood "you know you can't resist the hero gig anymore."

"Thank you for reminding me" Methos retorted, while physically trying to shrug off the weight of worry that had started to form across his shoulders.

"Alright fine" he said. "I'm not staying in Paris on my own with the rest of you gallivanting off. Anyway, MacLeod would kill me if I let you go knowingly into danger on your own."

"You just stick to that argument pops, and you might start believing it" said Richie, relieved at the brightening atmosphere.

Methos threw him a mock scowl. "Why don't you just toddle off home and start packing. I'll meet you both at the airport tomorrow morning."

Cassandra shook her head as she watched the two men walk out of the bar. They were more than likely going to get themselves killed, what had she been thinking? Methos had been right, she realised. The growing threat had her more than worried. For the first time in millennia, Cassandra was scared.


End file.
